The Seven Ravens

Today’s meditation is on The Seven Ravens (check out this cool site from National Geographic) from The Brothers Grimm. I had fun with the bird imagery…..

The O’Brien family produced seven sons in rapid succession. Each became a priest and rose in the hierarchy to become important clerics. The seven brothers, dressed in long black robes, analyzed and debated ecclesiastical law from their lofty posts in Vatican City.

Perched in this sublime world, the brothers rarely contacted their aging parents or their younger sister. Mary had disappointed them. Instead of earning a law degree, as they’d hoped, she’d dropped out of school and become a massage therapist. A massage therapist! How could she throw away her mind and become a new-age….yes, they would say it….prostitute!

They made excuses to avoid contact with her and many years passed.

Mary loved massage. She loved the way she felt when, focusing on a rock-like muscle, she felt it relax under her hand. Massage was movement—a dance of meditation—an exploration of time, space, and breath.

But the work was also unsteady and her money tight. Mary dreamed of visiting her brothers in Rome but such a trip seemed impossible.

Then, one afternoon, she received a call. She’d won a drum set from the “Starlight” raffle she’d entered. A heavenly gift! She quickly sold the set and bought airfare to Rome. But on her first day exploring Vatican City, Mary lost all of her little remaining cash. A pickpocket.

Mary sat at a café, disoriented. Should she go to the police? Call her family at home?

She noticed some young women in short skirts huddled near the street. Another woman was sitting on a bench, in distress. Mary walked over. The young hooker, Jolina, was in pain. Mary began to work on her shoulders and soon had worked on the entire group, earning enough money for food and lodging.

The next day Mary, with the help of her new friends, set up a small sign near a chair in the town square. “Backrubs: 1 euro for 1 minute.” She worked there all day, meeting tourists and locals in that glorious setting--until the police chased her away. For the next few days, as she searched for her brothers, Mary continued setting up her sign wherever she could--on more remote streets, or in hotel lobbies. She’d even visit hotel rooms. But this last choice was dangerous. Mary had to fight off several men who grabbed her. But through humor and quick thinking she was able to finish the massage without incident. But she was shaken. She’d have to find her brothers tomorrow or she’d go home. She couldn’t risk another disgusting encounter.

The next day Mary finally found the Papal Law Offices. She asked for her eldest brother—telling the clerk that she was there to provide glenohumeral joint (shoulder blade) therapy. She tried to sound official. This was the only anatomy she could remember. Remarkably, after a few minutes, she was escorted into a large conference room.

The first brother came in. He didn’t recognize Mary and was suspicious of her offer. But as soon as she began to work on his shoulders, he melted into a blissful mystic. He called his next brother who called the next, until Mary had refashioned each. They sat in a circle, eyes glazed. Their previous worries and duties had flown and they were now peaceful lumps of earth—happy in their current moment of no-thought.

Each in their own way felt a tiny rebirth to themselves. They resolved—they would not jump back into their “head-trips” and workaholic ways.

And then finally, they recognized their sister and her gift. They laughed and hugged and spoke for many hours, beginning a new journey of discovery. Read more!

Throwing the Frog

(a musing on the Brothers’ Grimm “The Frog King.”)

Guess which part of the story I focused on?
I love these tales to provoke my thoughts. Please know that my thoughts do not attempt to explain, decode, or explore all the incredible imagery in these stories. But I was very happy to find one way into one theme!

Moment of Truth
During the day, she’d think loving thoughts and imagine herself happy. She’d begin dinner full of “Donna Reed,” chopping and braising. But as his arrival-time approached, she’d become tense.

Natalie forced herself to kiss him, smile, and listen to his day, but soon was criticizing his every move. And all he’d ever done was care for her. She hated herself.

Tim was a gentle, loving man but lately, if she was honest with herself (seldom), Natalie found herself despising him. His sweet disposition made her skin crawl.

The more she pulled away, the needier and clingier he became. Then she hated him more and the cycle continued, until Tim cried and Natalie convinced herself she was cruel and insane. She would apologize and they would return to “normal.”

But when going to sleep or waking up, she found herself fantasizing his death or hers. A divorce (for many reasons) was out of the question.

Then, one day, thick in their hellish cycle, Natalie found herself pushing harder and harder.

“You aren’t the man I married, you’re a child!” She hated saying those words, but they felt true! She continued, not knowing what was coming. “I can’t be sexual with you, if you’re a child. And I hate that. I hate you for that.”

And there it was. The truth. She wasn’t despicable. She wanted to be with him. But he needed to grow up. To stop living only for her and step back into the causes and adventures he’d had before they were married. She wanted the courageous man she’d dated.

Even in his pain, his denial, and his tears, Tim knew she was right.

A wave of relief swept over her. There were more struggles ahead but, with the truth told, the spell was broken. Read more!